


pulses

by chii



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix It Fic, Gen, Spoilers, s9e9 holy terror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chii/pseuds/chii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a bad habit of not checking pulses when people seem dead. </p><p>spoilers for latest episode</p>
            </blockquote>





	pulses

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for S9 of SPN. 
> 
> Also this is fic, idk. I keep bitching about how Dean ought to know to check if people are actually dead COME ON DON'T JUST ASSUME ASSHOLE. No beta, all shitty writing issues are my own.

_I always trust you. And I always end up screwed._

"Kevin?" 

Dean's voice breaks on the end of the word, a hard n, as he lies there in shock because this is - it's a joke. This is some kind of joke, he's hallucinating, had too much to drink, got poisoned. It's anything but what he just saw. It's an angel-induced hallucination. It's someone trying to teach him a lesson on how to take care of his brother because he still hasn't figured it out, this long after.

It's not real, because he was just looking at Kevin and Dean's lost so many people lately that he wonders if he just refuses to accept it, maybe maybe maybe - 

No.

His body doesn't want to seem to work, but he forces the action. First his hand, then his arm, then shoulders, moving, slow and unsteady and scooting across the slick floors with a horrified noise. 

_I always end up screwed._

But he doesn't deserve that. None of them that die ever do, but this, especially this. They've lost so many that Dean can't begin to wrap his mind around it because everyone else deserves better. It's the dangers of knowing a Winchester, but it shouldn't have to be that way. 

"Kev-" 

Nothing. 

Kevin's hand slips, rolls off of his stomach and hits the ground and it's so fucking final that Dean feels his beer twist in his stomach, feels it rise up and he gags, bile flooding his mouth. Sam's gone (not gone-gone, he can't. Not him too) he's in the wind and Kevin and Cas- 

"Kevin." 

Somehow, he makes it over, and presses his hands to Kevin's arm, to his shoulder, and grips him tight enough to bruise (except he won't bruise, dead bodies don't bruise, not like live ones.) He's hot to the touch, burning up Dean's hands but he just grips him tighter and holds and shifts his weight, feels his own self-hatred make his shoulders draw down and sink into himself. Everyone else deserved better, but he'd fucking promised to protect Kevin. He was family. Family deserved better than this. 

There's a low noise, pained and choked and Dean grips him further.

He'll have to salt and burn it. It, because right now he can't think of Kevin's body, it's - it. 

He'll salt and burn it, and then he'll find Sam. He'll fix this, he has to. 

The noise again, and Dean tries to shove it all down, tries to focus on anything else but his own grief because he loses people all the time (and isn't that the problem?) he needs to have his shit together. 

The noise again, and Kevin's hand slips from where it's on his belly, hits the ground and twitches. Dean is pretty sure he's going to throw up. Fucking angels, fucking everything. It wasn't bad enough Pamela and countless others got crisped, now this? And now. First Cas, and then Charlie, and they're both okay, but there's no one here, no one but him and a bunch of fucking books and books don't bring people back from the dead. Dean presses his hand in tighter, and the noise - 

isn't him. 

 

 

For a moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't think, doesn't breathe, doesn't do a single goddamn thing, he just goes still. 

The noise again, hoarse and dry and rasping, pained. 

There's no fucking way. 

Kevin's hand twitches, and it's not in death, it's -

> ("She seemed-" Dean starts, voice cracking in the middle of what he wants to say and John gives him a look that could make paint flake off of a wall. Dad does that - doesn't have to do more than give him a look, let him know he's fucked up, he's fucked up big. 
> 
> "Always check for a pulse," John grits out, and hefts the girl up once he's made sure she's still breathing. "It's on you if-")

_CASTIEL._

Dean doesn't think, he just prays as loud and hard as he can and presses Kevin down, fingers pressing to his throat, searching (nothing) searching (his hands are shaking too fucking bad, come on Winchester come on) searching -- 

It's there. Thready, barely there, but it's there, and Dean prays harder than he ever has in his life, prays and prays and prays to Castiel, tells him to get his ass there as fast as possible, because he needs him, okay, he needs him, it's an emergency, fucking drop everything Cas I need you. 

He presses two fingers to Kevin's pulse, ignores the scent of burnt flesh, hefts him up and runs for the car. He's not losing one more member of this family.

**Author's Note:**

> No but really now. Charlie and Cas and - COME ON DUDE. Check for a fucking pulse. Pamela got her fucking eyes burned out and she survived I'M CHOOSING TO BELIEVE THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED NO ONE CAN TAKE THIS FROM ME!!!!
> 
> Okay goodnight I am on 3 hours of sleep.


End file.
